


Bruises on Your Skin

by Spoodlemonkey



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Dom/sub, Face-Fucking, M/M, Marking, Overstimulation, PWP, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-29 14:17:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16745581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spoodlemonkey/pseuds/Spoodlemonkey
Summary: It usually takes him awhile, once they get started, to decide where he really wants to begin. Connor is miles of snow white skin that flushes so prettily, and Freddie delights in bringing out the shades of pinks and reds and purples.





	Bruises on Your Skin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GreyMichaela](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyMichaela/gifts).



> Written for GreyMichaela because I made her watch that disturbing Goofy video...you know the one. Thank you sooooo much Mama Grey for checking it over for me and letting me throw extra idea's at you when you know I can't write them till I get through work!

Freddie’s not a good person. 

Not like this, out of the eye of the public, when it’s just the two of them behind locked doors. Not when he has Connor spread out like this on his bed, ass in the air as he waits. His face is hidden in the pillows but Freddie can see the way the pretty flush spreads down Connor’s neck, along his shoulders and back. He reaches out, drags a hand along the dip in his spine, digs his nails in just enough that Connor shudders and long red marks are left along his pretty pale skin. 

“Freddie.” It’s breathed against the pillow. 

Freddie ignores it for the moment. 

It usually takes him awhile, once they get started, to decide where he really wants to begin. Connor is miles of snow white skin that flushes so prettily, and Freddie delights in bringing out the shades of pinks and reds and purples. 

His palm slaps the meat of Connor’s ass—once, twice. Connor gasps, twists his face out of the pillow so Freddie can see the way his pupils are blown wide. There’s a perfect handprint now and Freddie leans forwards, bites at it, sinks his teeth in until Connor is whining. Then he licks and sucks and presses light, teasing kisses to his mark. 

He slides his hand between Connor’s thighs, brushes the head of his cock where it’s hard and dripping. 

“Freddie  _ please _ ,” Connor moans, hips bucking. 

He takes pity on him, wraps his palm around Connor’s cock, despite the awkward angle, lets him fuck his fist for a moment before pulling away again. Connor swears but doesn’t try to touch himself, keeps his hands fisted in the sheets—he’s so  _ good _ for Freddie. 

He’d let Freddie do  _ anything _ he wanted, and isn’t that a bit of a power trip?

Freddie could sit there for hours, watching, memorizing the play of muscles under Connor’s skin as he shifts, so desperate to be good for him. He could have Connor jerk off for him, slowly, stopping whenever he told him, just to see how long he could last before he’s begging, crying, desperate to come. 

Connor needs to be touched. It’s something he’d noticed early on, the way Connor would seek out touch and comfort from the others, how when they started  _ this _ Connor stuck close, closer than ever, soaking up whatever Freddie would give him.

He runs his hand up Connor’s thigh, digs his fingers into his cheek and tugs, exposing his pretty pink hole. Then he ducks his head and runs his tongue over it.

Connor jolts, whines high and needy, so Freddie does it again. The sounds he pulls from Connor are addictive, desperate, near constant as he spits on his greedy hole, gets him soaked, and fucks him with his tongue. Connor grinds back against his mouth, shameless. 

Freddie pulls back, wipes his mouth. “You can touch yourself.” His voice is rough, and Connor shivers, but obeys, hand flying to his cock. Freddie reaches out, grips his wrist and forces him to slow his desperate pace, keeps his hand there as he ducks back down. 

It’s harder this time, awkward, but worth it for the sounds spilling from Connor’s mouth. A litany of  _ more _ and  _ please Freddie _ and Freddie may be a terrible person but he doesn’t have it in him to deny Connor anything. 

He feels it when Connor comes, the way his body locks up, hole tightens where Freddie’s eating him out, the gasp as he spills over his hand. Freddie sits back, rolls Connor onto his back and wraps his hand around Connor’s cock, milking him of every drop until he’s a shuddering, shivering mess. 

Even then he doesn’t try to bat Freddie away, though it has to hurt, just shakes, face beet red and tears gathering in his eyes. 

He finally pulls his hand away and Connor all but collapses back into the pillows, chest heaving, eyes unfocused. Freddie leans down, presses a kiss to his slack lips, strokes along his cheek and gives him a moment to recover. He runs his hands gently along Connor’s arms to his hands, toys with his fingers, before switching to his chest. He skims his fingers down Connor’s chest, avoids his nipples, sweeps over his hips and back up again until Connor starts reaching for him, clumsy hands pulling him closer for another kiss. 

The heat he’s been ignoring for so long returns with a vengeance as he rocks their hips together and suddenly all he can think about is coming.

“Can I use your mouth?” He rubs his thumb against Connor’s plump lower lip.

“Yeah.” Connor nods eagerly. “Yes. Please.” 

He gets Connor comfortable then straddles his chest, careful of his weight. Connor’s hands on his thighs urge him closer, neck arched awkwardly as Freddie doesn’t move fast enough for him. He sighs happily as Freddie’s cock bumps his lips, presses a kiss to the head before carefully closing his mouth around him. Connor isn’t quiet during sex, he’s eager to please, blissful as Freddie feeds him his cock slowly, humming as he adjusts to Freddie’s rhythm. Freddie gets his hands into Connor’s red hair, pushes into the hot wet heat, holds there for a breath just to watch how Connor’s eyes go wide and glazed. 

He pulls back, lets Connor tease him with his tongue for a bit, shivering at what that talented mouth can do. He traces the seam of his lips with his thumb, feeling where they’re stretched wide to accommodate Freddie. Slides back in, his hips jerking forward. There’s not much better than Connor’s mouth, tight and hot and wet and for Freddie to use at his leisure. He fucks deep into his mouth, quick thrusts where he barely pulls back before he’s burying himself in Connor’s throat again. Spit slicks Connor’s chin, his lips red and abused and he’s absolutely  _ beautiful _ . His throat grips Freddie’s thick cock, pushing him closer and closer to the edge. 

It’s too much, he’s too wound up. He pulls out, jerks his cock hard and fast, gets his other hand up to cover Connor’s eyes before he’s coming all over that pretty face.

His orgasm feels like it lasts forever as he spills all over Connor’s lips and cheeks and nose. Connor keeps his mouth open for it, manages to catch some of his come on his tongue, and Freddie pushes back in, breathing hard, lets him clean his cock off after.

He pulls his hand back, watches as Connor blinks his beautiful eyes up at him, dazed and content, covered in spit and Freddie’s come. He licks and sucks happily at Freddie until he pulls back, over sensitive, and climbs off of Connor. 

It’s a short trip to the washroom on unsteady legs to grab a cloth to clean Connor up. He’s already half asleep when Freddie gets back, wipes him down and flips the covers up and over them both. The sheets need to be stripped later but for the moment it’s only a passing concern. 

Connor shifts around, tugging Freddie this way and that until he’s tucked up under Freddie’s arm, cuddled close to his chest. He’s asleep not long after that. 

Freddie stays up far longer, idly tracing the bruises and marks he’s left on him, the possessive feeling welling up inside him familiar. 


End file.
